


金閣寺

by ketasberceuses



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, Mental Instability, Mental Institutions, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:41:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22860421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ketasberceuses/pseuds/ketasberceuses
Summary: "And furthermore, if you are indeed so beautiful that nothing in this world can compare with you, please tell me why you are so beautiful, why it is necessary for you to be beautiful".- Yukio Mishima, "The Temple of the Golden Pavilion"
Kudos: 1





	金閣寺

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yg](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=yg).



he says: you’d look better with blind eyes. i blink, looking at his mouth, and he looks right into my face. i say: you think so? he doesn't respond. i say nothing.

an apartment building can be seen out of the window. there's a bus stop next to it, it's the final one for the only bus that runs here. all of that appeared this morning. a building, a path to it, a playground, a bus stop - i was watching it all come out of the white light. at 7 a.m. there was nothing. it was limbo.

he puts his hands on the windowsill. on my own hand, an illegible writing says "the boy's ears are ringing it's his heart crumbling down right into his feet". i read it aloud. he doesn't respond. i say: are you even real. he doesn't respond.

i'm sitting on the couch. a small boy with the saddest eyes is lying on the carpet at my feet. i look at his eyelashes, his skin, the short bangs on his white forehead, and i think: you'll never know that. a girl of comparable size is sleeping beside him. i look at them and don't move. a few days go by. when a hand touches my shoulder, i turn around and say: don't touch me. i'm alone here, you're alone here, you're even more alone than me. back off. but i'm so scared, it responds in my mind. i know, i say.

my parents are on their way, a girl behind my back says. there's a property bag beside her. three days go by.

i write down: her eyes are made of brown glass

he's humming all the time. i understand him

noise

a suicidal girl hugs a teddy bear and says: as soon as i get back to the orphanage i'll go to the bathroom and finally shave my legs. a second suicidal laughs: and i'll buy myself something. her right hand looks like frozen, crusty, grey-pink mince. get up, she says to the third one. i'll do something with your hair. why does the morning call have to be so early here, she replies, sniffing.

i'm lying on my bed when this girl enters the room. she says: gonna read you a letter. “i liked you…” she stops. “pretty…” she stops again. “i love you so much.” bitch. and i hate you, she says. i don't see her face, but from the ceiling her voice sounds like she is smiling. i think: i liked you. pretty. i love you so much. because you don't exist.

he says to me: to fall, not to fly, is in the order of things. i respond: that explains everything. he shakes his head: nothing explains anything.

at 7 p.m. the three of us are sitting together, and voices in the heads of these two on both sides of me are discussing something nonstop. you're loud, i say. anything else you wanna add? one of them responds. if thou beest here, the myriad gods will utterly destroy thee. they already have, he shakes his head, saying that in some different language.

i look away. happy birthday, i say. he doesn't respond.

a girl, waking up, says to the back of the armchair: dad can i go to a movie no you can't kid why can't i mum. a suicidal is standing behind her back. she says: shut up, you're annoying. a girl mumbles something and rolls away to the middle of the carpet. a suicidal sits on the couch and changes the channel. i hear the music i had already heard for twenty six times since i got here. nothing is so similar to life as music, i say. you're right, he responds in my voice.

i look at the ceiling and think that i should have died. a teen punches a small boy. an older teen comes up and punches the first one. a boy is crying, an orderly is laughing. i feel worse than i've ever felt before.

i love you, i think to myself

in case of fire leave them here and save yourselves, a cleaner says, peering into the evacuation protocol in someone's hands. fatties aren't fed, the hoarse voice adds. they're laughing. they leave for the weekend. a nurse is stroking my hair. a doctor is doing jigsaw puzzles with me, but some pieces are missing. you're so nice, why are you even here, an orderly says and advises me to read the book about two boys living in the war time. here you go, get well, the medical student says and holds out a book by remarque. i hope you'll be fine, a girl says, handing me another one. that's from him, she adds. nothing will be fine, i think, and i want to weep with gratitude. a boy sitting beside me is puking in his plate. i'm so scared, he says. i know, i say. forty seven days go by.

eventually he says: try two steps, anyway, the rest will be easier. i ask if it's a condemnation or a mercy. he doesn't respond.

the sun is shining right in my face


End file.
